


Pick Up

by TeamHPForever



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: spoilers for 3x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8142380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamHPForever/pseuds/TeamHPForever
Summary: Laurel keeps leaving messages on Frank's phone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just having a lot of feelings about Laurel calling Frank in the premiere.

The first time it happens, she's drunk. Laurel curses Michaela's insistence on tequila shots as she finds her phone and flips through to Frank's number.   
  
She hits call before she can really think about it.   
  
The phone rings. His voicemail picks up.   
  
“Frank,” Laurel's voice slurs. “I went by your place. I'm assuming you're running away, but your phone hasn't been turned off so you haven't dumped it yet. Please. Just let me know that you're okay.”   
  
Laurel hangs up and tosses the phone across the room. Fucking tequila.   
  
  
  
“I hate him.” Laurel whispers the words to herself, over and over again. She hates Frank for killing Lila, for shooting Mahoney right in front of his own son, for running away and leaving them all in the dark. She hates the idea of what he could do to all of them—if he took everything he knows to the police.   
  
She hates herself for knowing she doesn’t hate him. She misses him.   
  
If she really hated him, she’d delete his number from her phone instead of hitting call again.   
  
“Your phone still isn’t turned off. I’m not sure you understand how to go to ground.” Laurel doesn’t have it in her to laugh. “I wish I knew where you are.”   
  
She hangs up before she can say anything else that she’s going to regret. He’s a murderer and if he ever got caught, the police might be very interested in why she was calling him just to leave voicemails.   
  
  
Despite the constant reminders to herself that it’s a very bad and very dangerous idea, Laurel keeps calling. She ignores the pang of fear as she waits for the initial ring, sure that this time his phone will be shut off or completely disconnected. She closes her eyes at the sound of Frank’s voice, forgetting for just a few seconds that he’s gone.   
  
There’s the beep.   
  
“I went on a date tonight. He was an asshole, kept looking at his phone the whole time. At least he hasn’t killed anyone as far as I know.”  
  
“Does your family know where you are? Do they know you’re safe?”  
  
“Remember that time you got angry at me for suggesting that you were going to kill Sam’s sister? And you asked me if I thought you were some kind of hitman? You made me feel crazy, but joke’s on me, I was right.”  
  
“Someone is leaving ‘Killer’ posters of Annalise around campus. She thinks it’s you. I don’t think that’s your style.”   
  
“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.”  
  
Sometimes Laurel doesn’t hang up until the machine cuts her off. Sometimes she hits the button and throws her phone away before her voice can betray the tears that threaten to fall. She misses Frank and she knows it’s stupid. She knows it’s stupid that she keeps calling. She knows it’s stupid that when Annalise asked her if Frank was going with her to Mexico, she wished more than anything that she could say yes.   
  
Frank was a murderer. He’d lied to her the entire time they’d been together. He’d packed up his stuff and left without a word.   
  
She shouldn’t miss him. She should hate him, be glad every minute that he was gone. She should hope that he never comes back into their lives.   
  
  
“Your mailbox isn’t full so I know that means you’re checking your messages and not dead somewhere. I just wanted to say…I hate you.”  
  
  
Calling becomes a habit. As long as his mailbox isn’t full, she knows that he’s deleting messages. She knows that he’s alive, even if never picks up or calls back. Laurel tells herself that she just wants to keep tabs on him to protect everyone as she walks out of class and reaches for her phone. Missed call from Annalise, text from Michaela, text from Connor, missed call from Frank…  
  
Missed call from Frank.   
  
Laurel’s heart thunders in her ears. Maybe he was calling to tell her he was finally going to the police. Maybe someone had stolen his phone. Maybe it was an accident.   
  
There’s a voicemail. Laurel hits call.   
  
Frank’s voice fills her ears. It’s rough and gravelly, like he hasn’t gotten sleep in days. He probably hasn’t. “Camelot motel. Room 316. Knock six times or I’ll shoot.” Laurel’s forehead furrows and she wonders again if it was an accident. It sounds like Frank setting up a meet rather than wanting to see her. Then: “Laurel, I’m sorry. I know you might not believe me but I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”   
  
Laurel’s voicemail asks her to press seven to delete the message. She hangs up instead.   
  
Camelot motel. Room 316. Knock six times. Laurel’s halfway to her car before she can think. If Frank was dead to her, then she was going to run to a ghost.


End file.
